The Watchdog
by Kelleybel
Summary: I'm the watchdog, and if you try it, I'll bite." Eponine's POV. My first Mizzie fic!


**Hi all! My first _Les Mizzie_ fic, an' I'm happy 'bout it! It's about Eponine, watching Marius when he goes to see Cosette, and then foiling her father's attempt to rob Valjean's house. Oh, and it's based on the book version of this scene, not the musical. R&R please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Les Misérables_ . . . but then again, Victor Hugo is out-of-copyright . . . but I still don't own . . .**

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So you're here at the Rue Plumet again. I wouldn't be surprised if you came here every night. You're here to see that Cosette again, aren't you, M'sieur Marius?

I can see you pull out one of the loose bars on her gate and go into her garden. What's that good-for-nothing bourgeoise got that I don't got, M'sieur Marius? I can read and write, y'know . . . well, a little bit, anyway. And I bet your little Cosette wouldn't last one day out here on the streets, 'cause she don't know the things that I knows. See, I'm smart too, y'know. And I know big words too – like bourgeoise! See, M'sieur Marius, you don't need her – you got me!

But you've never really seen me, have you? All you can see is that damn Lark. That's why you've come here to her house again. That's why I'm sittin' here in the shadows outside the gate – I'm watchin' over you, M'sieur Marius. I'm kinda like your watchdog.

What's that sound? Someone's comin'. _Lots_ of someones, by the sounds of it. They can't see me, 'cause the shadows are hidin' me, but I can see 'em. There's six of 'em, six men walkin' toward Cosette's house. Can't see who they are just yet, but I can hear 'em talking.

"Sure this is the place?"

"Is there a dog?"

"_Je ne sais pas_. Anyway, I've brought something for it to eat."

"Have you brought the gummed paper to do the window-pane?"

"_Oui_."

"It's an old gate."

"So much the better. We can cut through the bars all the easier."

Strange . . . them voices, they sound . . . oh, what's that word again? Family . . . no . . . fam . . . famil . . . familiar! _Ouais_, that's the word. Them voices sound familiar.

One of the men comes up to the gate and starts tuggin' at the bar Marius made loose. Then I see who he is. It's my father. Broken outta the lock-up, have you, Papa? But whatcha doin' here, Papa? You're not tryin' to break in, are you? Then one of the men sees me sittin' down and pulls Papa back. "There's a dog!" he says, pointin' down at me.

Funny, he thinks I'm a dog. I stand up and Papa jumps back a bit. Prob'ly surprised 'cause I'm not a dog like he was expectin'. "Who the devil are you?"

Don't you recognise me, Papa? "Your daughter," says I.

Now I can see the other men. The _Patron-Minette_ – Claquesous, Gueulemer, Babet, Brujon and Montparnasse. They're carryin' stuff with 'em – metal bars an' stuff. 'Parnasse has a knife too.

"What are you doing here?" Papa says. "What do you want? Have you gone crazy? Have you come to try and put me off?"

You talk too much, Papa. I laugh and hug him. "I'm here because I'm here, dearest father. Aren't I even allowed to sit down in the street? You're the one who shouldn't be here. What's the use of comin' here when it's no good? There's nothin' to be got here. But you might at least kiss me. It's been a long time since we saw each other. So you're out again?"

Papa tries to pull away. "That's enough. You've kissed me. Yes, I'm not inside any more. And now, clear out."

I'm not gonna let you go yet, Papa. "But how did you do it? It was very clever of you to get out! You _must_ tell me how you did it! And Mother – where is she? You must tell me about Mother."

Papa's lookin' a bit angry now. "She's all right. I don't know where she is. And now, clear out, can't you?"

Can't get rid o' me that easily, Pa. "But I don't _want_ to go! I haven't seen you for four months, and you wanna send me away!"

"This is getting silly," says Brujon.

"Hurry it up. The cops'll be along," Gueulemer says.

I let go of Papa and smile at them others. "Why, it's M'sieur Brujon! And M'sieur Babet! Good evenin', M'sieur Claquesous. Don't you recognise me, M'sieur Gueulemer? And how are you, Montparnasse?"

Papa's lookin' like he's gonna give me a stern tellin' off. "That's all right, they all know you. Well, you've said hello, and now for God's sake go away and leave us in peace."

Montparnasse nods. "This is a time for foxes, not for hens." You say such funny things, 'Parnasse. I'm ain't a hen, I'm the watchdog, y'know.

"You can see we've got a job to do," says Babet.

I reach out and hold 'Parnasse's hand. "Montparnasse, my love, you must learn to trust people. Ain't I my father's daughter? Don't you remember, M'sieur Babet and M'sieur Gueulemer, that I was sent to look this place over? Y'know I'm not stupid." (That I ain't!) "People gen'rally believe me. I'm been useful to you more than once. Well, I've found things out, and I swear there's nothin' for you here. You'd be runnin' risks for no reason."

"Two women alone," says Gueulemer.

I can't let 'em go in there. Can't let 'em get M'sieur Marius. Maybe I can trick 'em. "No. The people've left."

But Babet shakes his head. "The candles haven't." He points towards the flickerin' lights in the attic window where the maid is hangin' out the washing.

_Merde_.But I can't let 'em in, no matter what. "Anyway, they're very poor, nothin' there of any value."

Papa pushes me aside. He's angry. "Go to the devil!" he says. "When we've ransacked the house from top to bottom we'll know if there's anything worth having."

No! I have to stop 'em! I grab 'Parnasse's hand again. 'Parnasse, you'll listen to me! "Montparnasse, you're my friend! You're a good lad! Don't go in!"

Papa says, "Off you go, girl, and leave the men to get on with their business."

Now I let go of 'Parnasse's hand. "So you're determined to break in!"

Claquesous chuckles. "That's right."

That ain't gonna happen, not on my watch. "Well, I won't let you. Listen to me. I mean this. If you try to get into the garden, if you so much as touch this gate, I'll scream the place down. I'll rouse the whole neighbourhood and have the lot of you pinched."

Papa moves towards me, but I'm not gonna let him get past. "You keep your distance!"

Papa mutters somethin' darkly then spits at me, "Bitch!"

I laugh. So I'm a bitch, am I Papa? S'pose so – I'm a girl watchdog, after all, ain't I? "Say what you like, you're not goin' in. I'm not a dog's daughter but a wolf's. There are six of you and I'm one woman, but I'm not afraid of you. You aren't gonna break into this house, 'cause I don't choose to let you. I'm the watchdog, and if you try it, I'll bark. So you might as well be on your way. Go anywhere you like, but don't come here. I won't have it."

They're all starin' at me, but none of 'em say nothin'. Almost like they're afraid. I laugh again. "_Mon Dieu_, d'you think I'm scared? I'm used to starvin' in summer and freezin' in winter. You poor fools, you think you can frighten any woman 'cause you got soft little sluts of mistresses who cower under the bedclothes when you talk rough. But I'm not scared. Not even of you," I add, lookin' at Papa. "What do I care if my body's picked up in the street tomorrow mornin', beaten to death by my own father – or found in a year's time in the ditches round Saint-Cloud or the Île de Cygnes, along with the garbage and the dead dogs?"

Then my throat itches and I start to cough. Them coughs give me lots of pain, but I'm not gonna let 'em stop me. "I've only got to yell, y'know, and people'll come runnin'. There're six of you, but I'm the public."

Papa steps towards me again. Oh, no you don't! "Keep away!" He stops and frowns. "All right, I won't come any nearer, but don't talk so loud. My girl, are you trying to prevent me working? After all, we have to earn our living. Have you no more feeling for your father?"

I'm not gonna be fooled by him, don't you worry 'bout that, M'sieur Marius. "You sicken me," I spit at Papa.

"But we've got to eat," he says.

"I don't care if you _starve_." That much is true. If I can go weeks without eatin', then so can you Papa.

I sit down on the step and start singin' softly to meself like I don't care about 'em bein' there. Maybe it'll make 'em go away.

"_Combien je regrette_

_Mon bras si dodu,_

_Ma jambe bien faite_

_Et le temps perdu._"

As I sit singin' and watchin' 'em, the six ruffians disappear back into the shadows, away from the house I'm guardin'. They're talkin' quietly, but I can still hear 'em.

"There must be some reason." That's Babet's voice, that is. "D'you think she's fallen in love with the dog? But it would be a shame to pass it up. Two women and an old man who lives in the backyard. There are good curtains in the windows. I reckon it's worth trying."

Now I can hear Montparnasse's voice. "Well, you lot go in. I'll stick with the girl, and if she gives so much as a squeak . . . " I can see a flash of light as he waves his knife around. You don't really mean that, do you, 'Parnasse? You wouldn't really hurt your 'Ponine, would you?

Then Brujon starts talkin'. "Well, listen. This morning I saw two sparrows fighting, and this afternoon I bumped into a woman who abused me. Those are bad signs. Let's go."

I can see 'em turn and start walkin' away. I hear 'Parnasse mutter, "All the same, if wanted, I was ready to give the girl a clout."

"I wouldn't have," Babet says. "I don't hit women."

Aw, you're sweet, M'sieur Babet. But I'm not gonna let you try and get to this house. I'm not gonna let _no one_ get past me, not on my watch. 'Cause I'm the watchdog.


End file.
